Page 31 of Half the Summer's Night
More laughter from inside. Abi’s settled down on her couch, but all I can really see of her is her long, pale legs, stretched out on the ottoman.
Still, I don’t want to leave her. Even seeing that little bit of her is an assurance that she’s safe. That she?—
The damp wind gusts through the tree, making all the leaves shimmer, and I sense something.
I sit up, adrenaline prickling over my skin.
Someone else is here.
I check my killing face to make sure it’s secure. Then I slide out of the tree, dropping lightly on the grass into a crouch. I go still for a minute. Listening.Sensing.
It’s the same presence as last night. Not human. Not an animal.
I rise up, my muscles tense. I can still sense Abi, too. She feels calm.
I move forward, following the trail on the breezy, salt-kissed wind. It leads me around to the front of the house, and I stop beside Abi’s flower garden, the sunflowers bobbing in the darkness.
The presence is in the cemetery.
I sweep my gaze around, but I don’t see much. The street lamps illuminate the road and the black wrought iron fence that wraps around the burial grounds, but even in the darkness beyond, I can’t see much. Just the pale teeth of headstones.
But that presence is there. I’m certain of it. Ifeelit, hot and coursing and vaguely sinister, like spilled blood. The interloper. Olivia Pearce’s murderer. Who else could it be?
I don’t want to leave Abi alone, but if this is my chance to dispatch the interloper before he can hurt her, I’m going to take it.
So I dart out of her yard and across the street, keeping away from the street lamps. Something about the presence changes, somehow. It feels brighter. Clearer.
Does he sense me the way I sense him?
I weave through the cemetery’s pecan trees, leaving the funeral parlor behind me. The presence shifts; I thought it was directly in front of me. Now it feels like it’s off to the left.
I jerk my gaze up, and just for a second, a split second, I see a flicker of movement, like a rabbit darting back into the woods.
Like a victim giving chase.
I take off in a run, my feet pounding against the dirt, my breath quick and steady. Adrenaline surges up in me again, along with that inky blackness that starts to take over before I make a kill.
A kill. I can’t kill the interloper here. I’m not ready for my Neptune’s Adventure kill yet, either. Fuck. I hate killing without any preparation. As Uncle Nashconstantlyreminded me, that’s how you get yourself caught.
Another flicker of movement, this time off to my right. I stumble to a stop, nearly tripping over a mossy hedge of gravestones, and I whip around to see a figure disappear into the shadows between the pecan trees.
I follow it, hungry for the pursuit. I don’t chase my victims often. Not like this. Usually, I watch them from the shadows, the way I watch Abi, waiting for them to fall into whatever trap I set for them.
But I don’t have a trap here. I just have a target.
I dart across the cemetery, moving through the darkness. I don’t see much of anything beyond the pale headstones, but I can sense the trail my prey has left behind. It’s not a scent, not a sound. Just an intuition, telling me where to go.
The wind howls, damp and smelling of the sea, and the trail vanishes.
“Fuck!” I whisper, skidding to a stop. I’m at the far edge of the cemetery, where the black fence juts up against the overgrown field that eventually rolls down the shore. I sniff, sweeping my head around, trying to catch on to that presence again.
Gone. It’s gone. I squeeze my eyes shut and strain against the night, listening for something, although I’m not sure what. It’s worked for me in the past.
I can sense nearby animals, small and cautious. But nothing human or close-to-human. Not my prey.
The wind settles into stillness. I open my eyes.
Still nothing.
